My youngest child is now somehow turning five. He’ll be starting school next year and I’ll be heading to my last ever kinder Christmas concert. I’ve been feeling such a mix of emotions, all tinged with a big dose of motherly guilty. But most of all, a deep sense of gratitude and contentment that I have been able to raise three children.

There is something about a new year. I know it’s just another day, which technically doesn’t change anything from yesterday, yet there is still something undeniably different about the first day of a new year. I’m wondering whether it’s because there is an underlying sense of expectation. That something will be different. That things will change.

2018. I don’t even know where to begin with you.

As we keep racing around, we’re actually missing all those little moments that make up the beautiful bits of life. We need to stop. And breathe. We need to slow down.

I don’t know if it’s just me or not, but quite often in life I forget to have fun. The kind of fun that makes me feel young. That makes me laugh so hard my belly aches. The kind of fun that takes my kids and husband by surprise. I get so caught up in the day-to-day monotony of life, that I forget about fun.

But, every now and then I decide it’s time to surprise my family.

The importance of community helping people survive tough situations has been reiterated in a huge way at my local level this past week. When tragedy strikes, it’s quite powerful seeing people band together - to support each other, to pray together, to cry together, to sit and chat. The importance of the time we have right now becomes so real.

Both short term and long term support is needed when crisis hits. Because crisis doesn’t last forever, but the ramifications and flow on effects often do.

It’s a busy month in our house. Lots of extra work hours, medical appointments for various family members, volunteering, plus just the usual busyness of a family of five. Nothing extraordinary, just lots on.

Usually, these busy periods mean we buy extra takeaway and don’t eat particularly well. Shopping and meal planning just seems to fall by the wayside. Then we feel worse ourselves, which doesn’t help us cope with the extra busyness. I’m sure you’re familiar with the cycle?

Today was one of those days that I used to have all the time, until my husband and I decided we would share our workloads better. I DO NOT miss them.

We were doing the school drop off yesterday, when our HeartKid randomly came out with:

“My biggest worry is my heart surgery, Mum. I hope I die before my surgery so I can go to heaven and have a heart that doesn’t need fixing anymore.”

And his eyes welled up with tears, with a face full of sadness.

Time out is good for the soul. I’m in Noosa with 3 friends for a ‘utero retirement’ trip 😂 So good to get some sunshine and take a break.

One of the absolute best things that has come out of our family living with Congenital Heart Disease, is the fact that we tend to live with a mentality of 'why not?' rather than think of all the reasons why we shouldn't do something. It's like since we came so close to losing our HeartKid, my husband and I have subconsciously decided to make the most of life while we've got it.

Not knowing what is around the corner with our HeartKid has taught me that I can't run at 110% all the time. It's not wise for me to run at full capacity with no space left. If I'm already running at a 10, where do I go if tomorrow our son’s heart starts playing up again and I end up in the Emergency Department?

Yesterday I took our daughter and our HeartKid to Chadstone and coincidentally the Teddy Bear Hospital was on. Given that the kids spend a fair bit of time visiting medical clinics and talking about health, I'm always quite surprised that they want to do things like the Teddy Bear Hospital. But they were keen as.

Cooking for me is one of my ultimate escapes. I love the creativity of it. I love the aroma that fills our house when I sauté onions, fry off spices, melt chocolate, stew apples or bake pastry. It makes our house feel like a home.

Five and a half weeks ago our son was born. He was incredibly settled and fed well. My husband and I couldn't believe how lucky we were to have another really easy baby. Our daughter absolutely loved him - a completely smitten sister.

For 5 years, I’ve been struggling to cope with our 5-year-old son’s heart condition. Yet now it feels like I’m moving into a new stage. A stage filled more with hope, story sharing and helping others, rather than the all-consuming internally focussed survival mode that I was thrown into 5 years ago. My hope, really, is that by sharing this part of my story, other families facing chronic critical illness may realise they’re not alone.